Socialite Soup
by Cypher7
Summary: I thought I'd take a whack (pun intended) at the 'Kill the Troll' challenge! *one-shot* Elena Lincoln is at her wits end, having to tend to a delivery problem at her newest salon, and discovers that some days NOTHING goes right!


A/N: Ah, so many lovely ways to kill The Evil One! I've been reading the stories in the 'Kill the Troll' Challenge, and decided to take a whack at it myself. (Pun intended!) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Oh dear! Oh no! This isn't right. I know I ordered the right stuff. _

Midge looked back and forth between the packing slip, the order form, and the high pile of boxes, completely confused, her panic growing. Nothing matched! None of this was right!

_Oh fucking hell! Two weeks into this job and I know that bitch is going to fire me, even though this wasn't my fault. I wouldn't have even taken this crappy job except that my honey was let go from his job when his company got gobbled up. They told him his job was redundant, so bye-bye, don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out. Damn that Christian Grey. I hope someday some company gobbles up his little empire and tosses his ass to the curb as well, let him get a taste of what that feels like._

_Shit. I knew that delivery guy was in too much of a hurry to unload this stuff. I'd have paid more attention except that Mrs. Hormdingle was at the front desk making a fuss, as usual, and I had to placate her yet again. Crap. Better call Mrs. Lincoln. Maybe she knows how to straighten out this mess._

* * *

Elena harrumphed, muttering under her breath, as she made her way to the back of the fairly recently opened salon. She'd had to waste well over an hour with the heavy traffic, driving here from her preferred salon at Bravern Center. Her annoyance increased with every step.

_Honestly, what the hell is so hard about accepting a delivery, comparing it to the manifest, and then stocking it on the shelf? I thought I'd hired Midge not only because she was soft-spoken and good at handling things, but she seemed to have at least half a brain! I needed someone to manage this salon, especially when I can't be here in person. For fucks sake, I have six salons to keep running. I can't do everything at each one! They're scattered all over the city. _

I slip through the rear door with the obvious No Admittance – Employees Only sign on it, and close it behind me. My heels click down the short hall and I come to the stock room. Midge is standing in the middle of the floor, next to a towering stack of cardboard boxes, glancing between a clipboard, and the stamped marks on the boxes.

"What the hell is the problem, Midge?" I roared.

She jumped, startled.

"Mrs. Lincoln, this shipment is completely messed up. It's not what was ordered. None of it!"

I snatched the clipboard out of her hand, checked the paperwork against the boxes, roughly pushing them out of alignment to get a look at all the labels. What the hell?!

"Who the hell accepted this shipment?" I accused.

"I suppose I did. I knew we were expecting a delivery, but just as the guy started unloading, Mrs. Hormdingle started pitching a fit at the front desk. I tried to placate her and by the time I got back here, the delivery guy was gone."

"Are you a complete idiot?! You _never_ leave the back room unattended when there's a delivery."

"You told me the customer comes first. Make up your mind already."

_Impudent bitch! How DARE she! Oh, would that I had a cane and a pair of handcuffs at hand!_

"Now what the hell am I going to do with 6 cases of hydrochloric acid in glass glass gallons? This was supposed to be massage oils, shampoo and conditioner. Dammit, Midge, this is going to come out of your paycheck!"

"Like fuck it is! Maybe I can try calling the delivery company and see if they gave our order to someone else."

"I don't care how you fix this. The cost is _still_ coming out of your paycheck." I might have relented except I mean to teach her a lesson. I will _not_ be talked back to!

"Hah! That's what you think, you fucked-up old hag. I QUIT!"

I was stunned, watched her grab her purse from the nearby shelf then pull open the back delivery door.

"I hope you and your wrinkles and all your bitchiness rots in hell! And the sooner the better!" she screamed, heading out the door and slamming it with all her might.

Well good riddance, I thought, standing there staring at the door. Before I had another thought I was slammed forward, trapped as the unstable tower of boxes tipped and buried me. The topmost box must have hit one of the shelves on the way down, knocking whatever was there to the cement floor as well. I was vaguely aware of glass bottles shattering, and a horribly putrid smell beginning to choke me. My head had gotten a nasty knock, leaving me dazed. I heard sizzling, felt something liquid pouring under me. My eyes were clamped shut, watering, burning from the fumes. I couldn't catch my breath enough to even try to call for help.

Then I felt it, and I was terrified! Burning acid chewing through my boots, my leathers, sinking chemical teeth into my flesh. God it hurt like nothing I've EVER felt. I coughed, choked, desperate to push the boxes away. Couldn't get leverage, couldn't move, couldn't scream. COULDN'T STOP THE BURN! _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

* * *

*** * * * * * * Seattle Nooz Headline News * * * * * * ***

**SEATTLE SOCIALITE BECOMES SOUP!**

_The Seattle Nooz has just learned that local socialite and high-end hair salon owner Mrs. Elena Lincoln, was tragically killed in a freak accident earlier today. Mrs. Lincoln, owner of the Esclava chain of full-service beauty salons, had apparently been checking inventory in a rear stockroom at the Kirkland location, a recently opened sixth store. Police are investigating the unusual death, and report that Mrs. Lincoln had died from over-exposure to hydrochloric acid, likely due to the toppled pile of boxes containing __gallons of __the powerful digestive acid, which had somehow crushed the unfortunate Mrs. Lincoln when they fell, spilling everywhere. Police said that they were able to identify her by the prints from one hand, which was raised and had not been dissolved as was the rest of her body. Agents for the Environmental Protection Agency's Rapid Response Team have cordoned off a half-block radius around the salon, and efforts are underway to mitigate the toxic disaster. Funeral arrangements are pending. (May we suggest a sponge?)_


End file.
